


[MST] I'd Rather Eat Lemons

by Ki_no_Shirayuki



Series: jumping on the Frollo Freak bandwagon [3]
Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Bad Fic, Commentary, Creepy, Disturbing Themes, F/M, MST3k-Style Riffing, Mary Sue, Need Brain Bleach, Sexual Content, Snark, Squick, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9811589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_no_Shirayuki/pseuds/Ki_no_Shirayuki
Summary: Another sporking of another horribly squicky Frollo Freak erotica coming your way.





	1. Or anything sour for that matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostlyheart19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlyheart19/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Subject was Peaches](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/265808) by Frollo Freak/Crazed Writer. 



> HoND belongs to Victor Hugo and Disney.  
> Commentary belongs to Yukiko the Child of Snow.

_Everything is cool...Hot Fun In The Summertime..._

Sly Stone crooned from the car's CD player  
**Stop. Forcing. Your. Music. On. Frollo.**

as Claude and I engaged in a lively conversation. Claude tapped his toes to the lively beat of the music while his eyes took in the wooded wilds of Southern Indiana 末  
**The end! Yay!**

Monroe County to be exact.  
**Aww maaan.**

"Ah, Danisha! This is such beautiful countryside I'm so glad  
**Even the full-stop got so fed up with this shitty fic it fled the sentence.**

your friend was kind enough to lend his cabin."

My 'friend' was actually a parent  
**COMMA**

a well-heeled executive for a major real estate corporation whose son came to me last semester in need of tutoring.  
**How is this relevant?**

As I told Claude, the boy, a really nice kid, was struggling in nearly all his classes. All that individual attention paid off handsomely as this kid, who "busted his butt" to get just C's, made the Honor Roll for the first time in three years.  
**We don't fucking care.**

His father was so impressed that he offered some monetary reward, but I refused.  
**The gold digger whose first item on the list of reasons why she falls head-over-heels for Frollo is his money refused a monetary reward. Heh, even the Mary Sue is going OOC.**

Then he suggested the use of his summer cabin located twenty miles south of Bloomington.  
_Well...He's grateful I helped his son...It is awfully nice of him to offer...But...What the heck...It's hot in town...And Claude's here...What a way to wrap up my sugarbritches' summer vacation..._  
**Gah, not the gratuitous ellipses again.**

"Danisha, I can't believe that, in a few days, I'll be back in Paris, in my time."  
**"And hopefully never to return."**

Claude sighed as he donned his new shades 蔓  
**_(snickers)_ With vines wrapped all around that would eventually grow into monstrous tentacles, crushing Danisha to death (that kanji over there means "vine")**

I bought those for him. They were rather oversized, aviator-styled, with mirror lens. He looked so adorable that I couldn't stop gushing.  
**And poor Yukiko couldn't stop vomiting.**

"Oooh, sugar! Don't you look ~~dashing~~ **disgusting**!"  
"Now, darling, you know my eyes need protection from this harsh Midwestern sun..."

Indeed, Claude's only complaint during his entire vacation was the heat. The temperature soared into the nineties  
**Nice pun you got there, huh? NOT.**

during those first few days, and I was determined to make Claude's stay as carefree as possible.  
I took him on a whirlwind tour of my hometown and showed him all the historic and cultural landmarks.  
**Speaking of which, when was the last time we see _him_ show you _his_ place's historic and cultural landmarks when you come over?**

We shopped, attended outdoor concerts, even took in a baseball game at the new Victory Field.  
**_(sighs)_ See above.**

However, the chief complaint was the heat.  
**And the OOC-ness and canon defilement and the _witchcraft_ …**

"My dear, I don't ever remember a summer in Paris quite so hot and humid. Why, it's as close to...",  
**Hellfire as it could get. _(snickers)_ See what I did there?**

Claude began while he slid another CD into the player I think it was Millie Jackson this time. _Uh, Claude...feeling a little 'hot 'n' horny' today?_  
**As is always in Danisha-verse.**

 _Millie Jackson can get mighty raunchy...Oh well, as you always say, "No Matter"..._  
**Like I said in the previous spork, find a new catchphrase. Maybe something like, "I'm not Sugarbritches, _I'm Judge Claude Frollo_!" while giving Danisha one hell of a punch to the face before throwing her into the dungeons (Gintama reference)**

"Danisha, are you listening to me?"  
"Sorry, honey, but I'm too wrapped up in  
**my little speshul snowflake Mary Sue bubble I never pay attention to anything everybody else says…**

what Millie's singing about...Honestly, Claude, I didn't think you'd go for all this soul music..."  
**Ah Well No Fucking Matter, because you'd force him to like it anyway!**

Claude laughed, leaned over to kiss me, then said, "Nisha, my darling, I can think of nothing more suitable on such a sultry summer day..." Then he softly kissed my cheek, pausing momentarily to allow his tongue to graze my earlobe.  
**What are you doing, man? She's driving! Hey, you know what Edualc Ollorf? Keep going until she crashes her car and _kill you both off_!**

I sweetly scolded him to stop, but the tone of my voice belied my protests.  
"Not now, sugarbritches. I need to keep eyes on the road. Besides, I want to stop at this little farmer's market and buy a few peaches. Uh...You _do_ like peaches, don't you?"  
**He likes everything you like. _(spits)_**

Claude moaned softly, his breath was hot against my neck as he worked his tongue alongside my shoulder. "Danisha, my mouth is literally watering in anticipation."  
**EWWW. And then who's gonna clean up?**

All I could do was slow down the car and laugh as he continued to fan the flames of my desire.  
**That burned her to ashes. The Fucking End.**

I returned his many caresses, saying, "Claude, baby...I think you have more than peach pie on your mind..."  
**Have your sickness bags prepared, everybody!**

++++++++

The farmers' market was actually a cramped roadside stand located on a country road just outside Bloomington. I remembered it during my college days, when a bunch of students would journey down for pumpkins and apples in the fall, and strawberries in spring.  
**Stop shoving in details we don't care about!**

I told Claude that the peaches, at least in this part of the state, are usually at their peak. So I offered to bake my famous peach pie as part of our first supper in the summer cabin.  
I had no idea what to expect once we arrived;  
**Sex.**

Mark told me that the refrigerator and pantry would be fully stocked so I shouldn't worry about grocery-shopping... _But still..._

My mind was called back to the present  
**Can this woman stop reminiscing for a minute?**

when Claude approached me; he carried two hefty honeydew melons. But I don't think his eyes were focused exactly on the fruit. _Oh, I know what he's doing...He did this before..._  
**NO NO NO NO NO.**

 _When we ran into each other that summer, back in the 15th...I was buying fruit at that neat street market near Notre Dame...He had to get in a few smart jokes..._  
"Nisha, these melons look marvelous. So large, so firm, so incredibly...Mmmm...sweet..."  
**Veeery smart. NOT.**

His eyes were firmly focused on my body. Now, I suddenly thought, here I am dressed in these cut-off jeans and they ain't loose and this tank top that's fits a little too tight. _Showing my legs, the shape of my breasts and butt_  
**You know what, at this point I ain't gonna ask why she still isn't considered a prostitute anymore. I'm tired.**

 _...My hair's loosely tied back...NO makeup...Only these sandals on my feet...Claude's seeing a lot more of me than...Oh what the hell...I'm in MY time!_  
**Since when do you care about what time you're in? You're going to wear the exact same shit anyway! I wonder what will happen if she travels to, say, Imperial China or something…**

 _And it's HOT! This is what I wear...No wonder he's extra-horny today..._  
**Shut uuuuup…**

"Yes, Claude", was about all I could muster, but my eyes wandered over to the zucchinis. _Mmm...nice, firm, the right size, too..._  
**Shut. The. Fuck. Up!**

I grinned broadly as I selected several summer squash, all ranging from about eight to ten inches in length; they were firm and shiny. I eyed Claude when I showed him the zucchinis. it was then that he knew "which-way-was-up" because we immediately launched into a hilarious game of 'double-entendre'.  
**NO HYPHENS.**

"Hmm...Claude? How about a nice zucchini saut with some of these firm, ripe tomatoes thrown in?" My eyes shifted from the long firm squash to his long firm body.  
**_(mega-cringes)_**

Claude was clad in a modern summer outfit  
**Because God forbid Danisha _ever_ dress for _his_ period.**

of sprayed-on bluejeans  
**Two words.**

and a cotton shirt of the palest violet.  
**Of fucking course.**

I No, I believed it was the heat convinced him to ditch the heavy dark clothes he normally wears.  
**No, it was your rudely insisting that he wears _your_ time's clothes.**

Actually, Claude never looked more relaxed, more at ease.  
**I beg your fucking pardon?**

My eyes roamed all over his body, and stopped long enough to admire the way the dark blue denim gripped his slender legs and his bulging masculinity.  
**He. Is. An. Old. Man.**

 _Oooh, sugarbritches...And you wonder why I slapped that nickname on you..._  
**And so do Yukiko and the readers.**

 _Yeah, baby...What's inside those britches tastes so sweet, so mellow..._  
**And I hereby crown Danisha the Queen of Squick.**

Anyway, this 'fun with food' game went on until Claude gently reminded me that,  
**"Get me out of this fanfic before I hang you for witchcraft!"**

"We really should be on our way, my love. For I am extremely anxious to get out of this heat..."  
**"And back in canon!"**

He stood dangerously close to me as I picked out a dozen large juicy peaches. "Mmm...Out of this heat and into a cool shower, and perhaps slip between cool sheets..."  
"Claude!", I whispered, "This heat's messin' with your mind.  
**No, it's your Mary Sue witchcraft that's messing with his mind!**

As soon as I pay for this, we'll be on our way." He smiled broadly then picked up a peach, sniffed it, then cooed, "I shall feed this to you, before we make love."  
**Everybody's got bags yet?**

I tried not to laugh when I shot back, "Aw, gee! That means one less for the pie." He laughed then continued to stand oh-so close to me; I suddenly felt something long and hard pressing against my butt.  
**_(barfs first)_ Sorry, was intending to save it for the squickfest later, but I couldn't help it.**

"Uh, Claude? Either that's a zucchini you're poking me with, or you're one mighty happy man!"  
**EWWWWWW.**

++++++++

At last! After consulting the map for the third time, coupled with Claude's patient navigation,  
**Correct me if I'm wrong, but when has Frollo ever been patient?**

we wheeled into the long drive that led to Mark's summer cabin. It was a long, winding road that cut through thick forests and limestone hills. Claude commented on the various trees and wildflowers  
**Always have to put his two cents of thoughts on everything, doesn't he?**

as I slowly drove the narrow gravelled road.  
"This is so beautiful, my darling. A place of quiet tranquility where we can fulfill our desire..."  
**BlahblahblahSHUTUP.**

He leaned close to me as we approached the house; then he took a deep breath, sighed and moaned, saying, "Danisha, no one or nothing will disturb us the entire weekend.  
**Not even canon…**

I want to make love to you with such abandon..."  
"You mean do it till we pass out?"  
At once, Claude Frollo burst out laughing and couldn't stop  
**Until he died from lack of breath. The End.**

I parked the car in the rear driveway.

++++++++

When we walked around to the front of the house, we were met at the door by a tall buxom blonde who appeared to be Mark's girlfriend.  
**Yet another OC we will never give a shit about.**

How did I know this? His kid told me that, "Dad has this girlfriend - She's OK, but...Ever since Mom died, Dad's been kind of lonely, so my uncle fixed him up with Candi."  
**Because God forbid you be single and happy.**

"Candi" appeared to be in her early twenties, and she seemed like she'd be more comfortable in a nightclub than the wilds of Monroe County.  
**Swap "Candi" with "Danisha" and "the wilds of Monroe County" with "Medieval Paris" and there you go.**

She was clad in white shorts and a tank top. Her deeply tanned skin contrasted sharply with her sun-bleached hair.  
I looked at her, then I looked at Claude. _Baby, you better put your eyes back in your head...She's definitely not your type..._  
**As is any other woman you claim he is fond of, _because he isn't supposed to be fond of them_! He _flipped his fucking nuts_ when he started having lustful thoughts about Esmeralda, damn it!**

But Claude only casually acknowledged Candi's presence  
**Of fucking course, because Nisha is his one twu wuv.**

as she handed me the keys to the cabin. "Markie said you'd be here around noon. There's a fridge full of food and the bar's all stocked up," she said in a cute little girl voice  
**Read: annoying chipmunk voice.**

although I highly suspected that it was a put-on.  
**Yeah, because every single woman will _definitely_ fall for a racist old grump!**

Candi then went to explain that, "Markie made sure everything was comfortable for you two..."  
**"Comfortable…"**

Then she eyeballed Claude  
**She revealed herself one of the three Fates and proceeded to cut Danisha's life thread. The end.**

who had hastily excused himself to admire a patch of wildflowers growing near the cabin.  
"Hmm...", began Candi, "he must be hell in the sack."  
**Shut. Up.**

She eyed Claude up and down, although he was totally oblivious to all the attention.  
**Because Mary Sue.**

I just looked her squarely in the eyes and whispered back, "Oh, honey, if you only knew...My Claude _loves_ his chocolate milk!"  
**No. He. Doesn't. He's a racist asshole, damn it!**  

That said, we both broke up in laughter then Candi headed for her car: A bright-red Corvette convertible A present from "Markie".  
**Why is that in quotes?**

After she left, Claude returned to the front of the house and favorably commented on the surrounding grounds,  
**Stop "favorably commenting" on everything, it's getting really annoying.**

although he didn't have too many favorable words for Ms. Candi.  
**_Atari-mae da._ Sorry, I'm so tired of repeating "of fucking course" over and over again, but at this point there's nothing else better to say than that, so I had to say it in Japanese. I'm sorry.**

"My dear Danisha, did you know your friend has a pool in back? And that garden! My love, I have a feeling this will be a most memorable weekend. However..."  
"Your thinking about Candi",  
**Why must I, who isn't even a native English speaker, call her out on her your/you're mistake?**

I replied, trying to perfect Candi's bubbleheaded vocalese,  
**Which sounds horribly annoying and headache-inducing.**

"'Markie's sweet young thing'?  
**DON'T FUCKING CALL A PERSON A "THING."**

I saw you feasting your eyes all over her. And before you say anything, I'm not jealous 末  
**Of course you are. Stop denying it. And I ain't even gonna say anything about that Chinese character.**

Why should I be jealous?"

Claude took me into his arms, softly chuckled, then said, "Darling, never did I consider adding Mlle. Candi to my long list of FSMs.  
**But you _already_ have a long list of them and… what.**

She may be attractive on the surface, but..." He kissed me, then laughed upon adding, "I'm not wholly attracted to...What is your word...'Airheads'?"  
**Because all women with naturally high voices are airheads! _(spits)_**

I could only return his laughter, then told him my assessments of Mark's 'friend'.  
**Why is that in quotes?**

"Claude, I'll let you in on a secret. I studied Candi real hard, and I can tell you that Candi is not all Candi."  
**What.**

Claude looked at me and raised an eyebrow as we walked up the steps onto the front porch. Before I could barely get our few bags inside, he finally had to ask, "And what did you mean by that? Er...Mlle. Candi is not..."  
"Silicone City, baby...Couldn't you tell those were fake?"  
**Of course he can't, they didn't have that shit back in his time!**

At once, Claude Frollo laughed long and hard; he knew exactly what I was talking about.  
Long ago, I explained to Claude the wonders of 'plastic surgery' when he had asked what it is,  
**Of course the timeline-fucker _had_ to explain.**

and wondered if I had ever considered surgically altering myself.  
"No way!", I shot back. I happen to like my body 蔓  
**With all these lovely vines growing from it…**

why would I want to mess up what the Good Lord gave me?  
**Because He forbid you love it for its own sake.**

Upon entering the cabin, Claude grabbed me, kissed me, then said to me, "Danisha, you have the most breath-taking body. All these plump curves, so feminine, so...ummm...natural."  
**Because naturally skinny women don't exist.**

"OK, Claude...Now, can we get settled? Then you can play with my body all you wont."  
**Err, anybody got a spare bag?**

++++++++

_This is a cabin? Looks more like one of those dream summer homes I've seen in House and Garden..._

Claude and I entered the vast living room; I dropped the bags on the floor as my eyes took in the impressive interior. It had a warm, inviting presence with its polished hardwood floors and walls, the huge fireplace though I doubt we'd have much use for it now. The room was comfortably furnished with chairs, a couch and two loveseats.  
**Is that a bit too much for a cabin?**

Little tables scattered here and there, and Claude was especially intrigued by the many pieces of modern art  
**God forbid he like art from his own time.**

that adorned the walls and perched on tables and shelves.

"This is so fabulous!", I exclaimed to Claude, who wondered what the bedroom looked like. _Is that all you think about, sugarbritches?_  
**Because Edualc Ollorf is shallow like that.**

 _Let me see the kitchen first...Then we'll mosey upstairs..._  
**Just say _go_ upstairs for Buddha's sake. That word either means "to travel" or "to wander", neither of which sounds natural here.**

Claude started up the spiral staircase, eyed me up and down, then said, "My love, although the drive down here was pleasant, I am rather uncomfortable..." His eyes narrowed; his mouth curved into that famous toothpaste smile.  
**His face melted into a puddle of gooey toothpaste.**

"Ummm...Join me in a nice shower?"  
I stared right back at him; my gaze was as slow and deliberate as his. "Sugarbritches, don't use up all the water...I'll be up as soon as I check out what's for supper."

"Well, Danisha, you'll be...hmm...'up'? My dear, I'm the one who should be...'up'." That said, Claude burst into boisterous laughter,  
**I need headache pills.**

and I matched his humor.  
"Good one, baby!",  
**No, it's not.**

I shot back as I handed Claude his bag then headed for the kitchen.  
Did I say that Mark's cabin was wonderful, fantastic? That was an understatement. When I walked into that kitchen my eyes popped.  
**Out of their sockets.**

It was a gourmet cook's dream come true; everything was new and state-of-the-art.  
Mark wasn't lying...He said he'd have this place well-stocked...Look at this bar! The pantry's full...The fridge is loaded with all kinds of goodies...

I began selecting items for our first supper in the cabin. _Let's see...here's chicken...I can grill that...serve with some saut馥d zucchini, a good wine...and peach pie...Sounds good to me..._  
**Why does every single one of her internal monologues consist of gratuitous ellipses?**

I emptied the peaches into a bowl, then started to gather the ingredients for the pie. I thought, while Claude was in the shower, I could get a jump start on the pie. _Make the dough at least...the rest is easy...Oh what the heck! Dinner can wait...I want to play with my sugarbritches..._  
**I'm afraid _of fucking course_ has become my new catchphrase.**

I wandered back into the living/dining area and began flipping through Mark's CD collection. _Ooh...Old 1970s stuff..._  
**Not so old for Frollo.**

 _Teddy Pendergast, Ohio Players, Eagles, Carole King...Hmmm, let's see if 'Teddy Bear' can put me and my Claude in a real sensual mood..._  
**Shut up about your music!**

At that moment, Claude called to me from upstairs; his voice took on the most sensual tone when he said, "Darling? Could you please come up here? You have to see this...this bedroom!"

He then emitted a deep, wickedly erotic laugh when he added, "Ah yes, my love. Bring the peaches."  
I couldn't see him, but I could've sworn Claude had on not one stitch;  
**OH FUCKING HELL.**

I could almost sense his beautiful nude body wriggling in amorous anticipation.  
**Alright everybody, let the squickfest begin! _(barfs)_**

 _Sugarbritches, are you starting without me? Well, I can move sexily, too...But you already know that...Are you hungry, Claude? Hungry for peaches, and for me? 'Cause I'm starvation hungry for your...ahem...Mmmm_  
_**(passes out)**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's just the first part…


	2. The more sour, the better.

With a bowl of peaches in hand, I entered the bedroom and my eyes just about popped out of my head!  
**How we wished that really happened.**

 _This is a bedroom? This looks more like something I read about in one of those racy sex novels._  
**I thought you only ever read black history and slave hero tales?**

The room was spacious, with the same hardwood floors and paneling. The huge picture windows looked out over the enclosed backyard with its pool and garden. A king-sized waterbed dominated the room;  
**Wow wow wow, isn't this a bit too much for a cabin?**

it had already been turned down -- Like Mark had anticipated Claude and I using this.  
**Because everyone must have everything ready for the sickening lovebirds.**

Huge mirrors, which caught the bed's reflection from every angle, adorned the walls and ceiling.  
**THE FUCK? This is just impractical. What do you need so many mirrors for, unless the room also doubles as a House of Mirrors like in an amusement park?**

I wonder if this is what Claude meant by, "This has to be seen to be believed!"

 _Oh no! Claude's never seen anything like this . . . I hope he wasn't too outraged . . ._  
**He has every reason to be outraged because of your turning him into your personal sex toy!**

But the pleasant sounds I heard emanating from the bathroom put my fears at ease. I set the bowl on the night table,  
**You mean "nightstand?"**

then slipped out of my clothes and entered the bathroom. Even this room had a sensual ambience -- A delightful blend of rustic bliss and urban chic.

The room was large with white and brown tile floor and walls; a sliding glass door led out to an outdoor alcove complete with hot tub and Jacuzzi.  
**Fiction 500 confirmed.**

 _Damn! Mark must have spent a small fortune on this place!_  
**SMALL MY ASS.**

It's no wonder he's so happy when he returns from his 'vacations'.  
**Why is that in quotes?**

For all my amazement with this 'passion pit',  
**There are so many things wrong with that… name up there I don't know where to begin. "Passion pit?" Really? Placing such a beautiful word next to such a scary one?**

I had to remind myself why I was here--why Claude and I were here.  
**Sex.**

 _Isn't it obvious?_ _Come on, Nishi, you can't wait to get your mouth and hands on that delicious, manly body . . ._  
**STICK THIN. AND WRINKLY AS EXPECTED OF AN OLD MAN.**

From the shower stall I heard his deep sultry baritone crooning the sultriest of songs. The frosted glass door could not completely conceal his tall slender form writhing in time to the music. I just stood back and watched Claude weave his body. He must've sensed my eyes on him because the lyrics and his movements became more sensual, more explicit. I swore I saw his hands travel to a certain member of his anatomy.  
**SPARE ME THE MENTAL IMAGES!**

 _What is he singing? Sounds made up . . . Claude, are you singing about me? ._  
**Perfect punctuation.**

 _Tell me, sugarbritches, do you want me to . . . ahem . . . 'put my mouth on you'? Maybe we can watch ourselves do each other . . ._  
_Mmm . . . Claude, give it up, baby!_  
**And return to canon where you belong!**

_Sing it, honey!_

My sweet-as-honey lady  
I love to hear you scream  
When my mouth's on you  
O my Nubian Goddess  
**STOP CALLING THAT BITCH A "GODDESS."**

Make me scream  
When your mouth's on me!  
Ooh . . . Wrap your full, plump lips around my . . . Ahem!

I giggled then opened the door and slipped beside him under the cool water. _Mmm . . . this feels so good . . . Ooh, Claude. Sing more. Squeeze me . . .  
_**To death…**

 _Hold me . . ._  
**Responsible for my unholy actions upon the HoND canon…**

"My Nisha, my love . . . ," Claude said as he slid his hands all over my body. I closed my eyes as I let the cool water flow over me. Claude's tongue gently caressed my shoulders, my back, my neck. When I turned to face him, I immediately returned each and every kiss with a fiery passion that I amazed myself with my own sensuality.  
**Stop "amazing yourself", you won't be able to fool us anyway. What is there for a narcissist like you to "amaze" yourself about?**

Yes, it is amazing. I'm a sensual woman; I love my body, and the way it responds to a man's touch. _Mmm, Claude, we are no longer Black and White, 15th and 20th Century, just a man and a woman celebrating their love and passion . . ._  
**A genocidal racist and a self-centered bitch squicking out the readers…**

"Danisha, you are too incredibly sensual. Every inch of you . . . Mmm . . . every beautiful inch . . . "  
**Oh no, not the gratuitous ellipses again.**

His lips were now upon my breasts; his hands gently kneaded my fleshy bottom. I responded by stroking his tight, round butt.  
**EWW.**

 _Mmm . . . Feels so good . . . Ooh yeah baby . . . right on the nipple . . . Make it hard . . . then I'll make you hard . . ._ Claude's tongue greedily stabbed my left nipple;  
**Which then went right through to her heart. The end.**

then his mouth traveled down, down, down . . .  
"Mmm, Claude," I cooed while my hands tangled in his damp hair. "That feels so good . . ." Claude moaned and cooed while he went to put his ahem mouth on me.  
"My love . . . my Danisha . . . my Nubian Love Goddess . . .  
**Like I said, Danisha is not a goddess! A psychopathic, manipulative, narcissistic person like her does not deserve to be a goddess!**

Neither brown sugar nor dark honey tastes sweeter than this . . .  
**I'm getting 120% sick of all these sugar references, and I have a sweet tooth myself.**

Umm . . . You are so beautiful down here . . . "

It felt so incredibly wonderful, Claude's tongue gently caressing that faraway spot  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

that many a man long to visit, to tease, to bring a woman to the point where she loses all control and begs for more.

"Umm . . . Claude . . . " I moaned as the cool water cascaded over our bodies; Claude had me pressed against the wall, his tongue and lips still working their magic. _Oh, Claude . . . nothing compares to this . . ._

"Claude, give it to me! Make me go!"  
**Straight to hell!**

Claude responded with a chuckle and an upwardly sliding kiss; I could taste myself on his lips.  
**EWW.**

He must've read my mind  
**New power as the plot (or lack thereof) demands.**

as _my_ lips traveled to a far-off place _I_ longed to visit, to tease, to play with.  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

I wanted to get Claude Frollo so worked up until he was squirming and moaning with sensual delight, and, perhaps, even scream for more.

 _I remember that first time, when I did this to him . . . He got so excited; he thrashed about so much that he really mussed the sheets . . . Then he almost cried when I stopped . . . then he begged for more..._  
**No, he is a religious, celibate man who loses his mind over this _one woman_ who got him all worked up! Frollo will not beg for sex!**

"Danisha, I'd thought we'd . . . oh!" Claude had turned off the water then gently moved himself away from my reach. "Ooh, Claude! Your Nisha wanted a taste of . . . "  
Claude led me out of the shower, wrapped an oversized towel around both of us, then guided me to the bed--That bed surrounded by all those mirrors . . .  
**LE HORROR.**

++++++++

 _Peaches . . . sweet, juicy . . . Mmm . . . they smell good, taste good… and all that juice dripping down . . .  
_ **Bag?… Oh no, too late… _(barfs)_**

Don't worry, sugarbritches,  
**"I'm not Sugarbritches, I'm ~~Katsura~~ Judge Claude Frollo!"**

I'll lick up all that juice that dripped on your . . . Ahh!

"This tastes so good!" Peach juice dripped down my neck and onto my breasts, and Claude was kind enough to -- ahem -- 'clean up'.  
**I have no words.**

"These _are_ rather tasty," sighed Claude as he took another bite of a large, firm, ripe peach. "Mmm," moaned Claude again as I -- ahem -- 'cleaned up' juice that had dripped down his chest  
**EWWWWWW.**

and onto 'other' spots.  
**Why is that in quotes?**

He then laughed when he caught our reflections in the mirrors that surrounded the huge bed.  
**LE HORROR CONTINUES.**

Now I know that Claude had never seen such a 'passion pit';  
**Oh yes, impeccable naming skills.**

in fact, my own bedroom is no where  
**ONE WORD.**

near this. Although Claude had heard about such things from me, he wasn't quite prepared for a room like _this_!  
"My love, never had I imagined that I would make love to my 14 th FSM  
**I knew someone said this before, but it's worth repeating: Your relationship is definitely not healthy if your partner refers to you by a fucking _number!_**

under the watchful eyes of MYSELF! Why, I have yet to experience this facet of your 20thCentury culture. That mirror!  
**Yo, mirrors have been made since around 6000 BC. It's not new at all.**

Nisha, let us make love to each other, while we watch ourselves overtaken with passion."  
**I'm definitely getting nightmares tonight…**

And with that, Claude sprawled on top of me then began to kiss and caress me with such fire, such passion, that I  
**Burned to ashes. The end.**

nearly fainted from his every touch. The feel of his hands, lips, tongue and teeth upon my skin, combined with the scorching fire of my own responses, inflamed me so much that I  
**BURNED UNTIL NOT ONE TRACE OF ASHES WAS LEFT ON THE FACE OF EARTH. The end.**

literally begged for release. The realization of my intense passion was made evident when I caught a glimpse of my wildy writhing body.  
**Guess what, I won't get nightmares now that I can't even _sleep._**

Even Claude, who can move extremely sensually himself, couldn't resist joining the dance of ecstacy.  
**ECSTASY.**

I spurred him on with my words, "Hey, Claude . . . You sure can move that delicious body, and you do have a killer body. Wiggle it, baby! Move that body, sugarbritches!"  
**"I'm not Sugarbritches, I'm the Minister of Justice who would burn you for blatant witchcraft!"**

Claude chuckled then complied with the sexiest and most sensuous performance;  
**There goes my lunch _and_ breakfast…**

I steadily watched his reflection as he snaked and slithered all over my body, his hands, lips, and tongue touching every inch of me. When Claude slipped his tongue between my thighs, I thought, _this is it...no holding back..._  
**And last night's dinner…**

"Ooh, Claude! Ooh, baby, this feels so good!", I breathlessly moaned while I watched our reflection from the ceiling mirror. I thought, this is weird,  
**Of course it's weird! It's basically like making out in an amusement park!**

kinky; I've never before watched myself do 'The Wild Thing'. But somewhere within the dark recesses of my mind, I wanted to watch this man deliver his own brand of lovemaking: that powerful, oh-so-satisfying sexuality that never fails to amaze me. I mean, here's a man who projects the perfect image of repression and denial, yet here he is, expressing himself totally and with such abandon!  
**Read: going _horribly_ OOC.**

 _Give it up, Claude! Let it loose, sugarbritches!_  
**"I'm not Sugarbritches, I'm a religious man who considers lust a sin!"**

 _Hmm . . . Speaking of 'sugar' . . ._  
**The ants are coming.**

Our bodies were bathed with sweat and sticky peach juice. Through my blurred vision, I watched Claude Frollo's long, pale body thrusting against mine. As I had always said to Claude, we have always been an interesting study of contrasts: His pale skin -- I likened it to fine ivory -- contrasted sharply with my own -- a dark, honeyed  
**I swear I'll destroy something if she uses that "word" one more time. "HONEY" IS NOT A FUCKING VERB.**

caramel. We even differed in size -- Claude is tall and extremely slender, not rawboned and skinny, but gracefully slim.  
**Yeah, because the official arts are totes wrong!**

I'm what one would call 'short, plump, and sassy' -- five-foot-four inches  
**Still taller than I am.**

and the perfect size fourteen. Of course, Claude has always praised my figure,  
**Of fucking course. You're the Mary Sue. It'd be strange if you don't get heaps of praises upon you!**

and I welcomed that praise, especially since I'm from a time and place where the size of a woman's body is everything.  
**As is always. Also, your figure would have been regarded as _ideal_ by medieval standards.**

 _Thank you, Claude. Thank you for seeing me and loving me just as I am._  
**Yep, only Edualc Ollorf can love a manipulative psychopath just as she is.**

++++++++

We were now stretched out on the bed, sixty-nine-fashion. Every now and then I glanced up at the mirror just to watch Claude's handsome gray-haired head buried between my thighs,  
**Shit. _(barfs)_**

but I also wanted to watch myself give Claude Frollo the best my mouth had to offer.  
_It is, after all, what he craves . . . he loves when I do this to him . . ._  
**He shouldn't though.**

"Make it big, my sweetness. Mmm . . . and you _do_ taste so sweet down here . . ."  
Oh I'll make it big all right, just as long as he keeps playing with my 'magic button'.  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

++++++++

Claude was so big, but I took all of him, every engorged inch, and I didn't care if the back of my mouth hurt. My hands gripped his tight, round butt,  
**I swear if she says one more word about Edualc Ollorf's butt, I'm gonna spontaneously combust.**

my nails dug into his flesh as my mouth continued to work its magic on his hardened masculinity.  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

But I wanted to pay attention to my own pleasure for Claude teased and titillated my femininity until I screamed and hollered for more. The more I screamed, "Claude! Oh, baby, you're _so_ good!", his tongue and teeth dug deeper within me.  
**And she's torn apart. The end.**

Now, I had to stop doing 'that' to him because what he was doing to me felt so wonderful. I swore I actually felt his tongue travel deep inside my woman's depths.  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

Claude's tongue gently yet hungrily stroked those sweet, swollen walls; then I felt his teeth tenderly nibble my engorged clitoris  
**Can a clitoris be "engorged"?**

\-- that 'magic button' which held the secret of a woman's joy.  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

And Claude knew exactly how to operate that button. I couldn't stop screaming! I thought I would never stop coming!  
_Mmm, sugarbritches,  
_**"I'm not Sugarbritches, I'm a villain who goes crazy and would not hesitate to commit mass murder when a woman arouses me!"**

you sure know how to push ALL my buttons -- Especially THAT one!  
**They do know how to press my Berserk Button.**

"I knew I'd make you scream", Claude snarled sexily. "Now, my tasty little peach, let me hear you scream even louder!"

Suddenly, Claude pulled me up to face him; then, fitting my body with his, rammed himself into my wet, throbbing womanhood  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

and rode me until I squirmed and thrashed about under him -- It was that intense. My thighs immediately clasped his thrusting pelvis, my teeth and tongue greedily devouring the sweat that poured from his delicious body. It was a strange mix of sensations: The taste of salty sweat combined with the remains of sweet peach juice;  
**YUCK.**

the visual impact of watching Claude's long, slender, cool vanilla-toned body covering my own burnt-sugar voluptuousness. And those bodies moved in tandem -- I swiveled my hips 'like a washing machine'  
**You don't make comparisons to machines when writing erotica!**

while Claude gyrated deeper and deeper within me.  
I reveled in the reflection I beheld overhead -- of being man-ridden, of being sexually mastered by the most skillful lover I've ever known.  
**Who shouldn't even _be_ having sex.**

As I watched our ritualistic writhings, I got a flash of creativity.

My nails racked  
**RAKED.**

his buttocks; then my fingers found their way toward _that_ place. I remembered reading, in one of 'those' publications, about this highly sensitive spot on a man's body that, when squeezed in the right way, can literally send him into orbit.  
**Goodbye Ollorf, hope you have enough oxygen up there.**

So, I thought, why not?  
**Can't believe I actually agree with her here. Go ahead and send him away from the face of the earth!**

 _Come on, Danisha, you can do it! Remember L.A. Law? Remember the 'Venus Butterfly?  
_ **The fuck?**

 _Well, you can call this the 'Nubian Love Touch', or something that's more passionate-sounding._  
**They're all equally squicky.**

I could sense Claude's climax, and I could sense the spiraling of my own. At once, my fingers tightly gripped that 'really forbidden zone',  
**But _where_ the exact fuck is it? Is it his butt? Or his thighs? _Where?_**

sending Claude Frollo into a fit of frenzied, twitching, mind-numbing satisfaction. His body jerked and thrashed over and inside me. The more Claude squirmed and wriggled, the deeper he thrust into my woman's depths; his hard, throbbing maleness  
**WEIRD EUPHEMISM.**

slammed into me again and again.  
Damn, that started to hurt!  
**You have every right to ask him to stop.**

 _But it was a good hurt!_ I felt him swell, then dance inside me; he buried his face in my breasts, licking up my sweat and calling out my name over and over as the last ounce of his seed spewed forth.

"Danisha, you are -- Oh -- like dynamite. Oooh! Explode with me,  
**And they both died. The end.**

my succulent blackberry-woman. _Where_ did you ever -- Ah! -- learn to do _that_?!"  
Then, with a mighty groan, Claude got in a few last thrusts; he still lied over me while allowing me to cuddle and caress him. I do believe he was crying, for I felt his body still shivering and trembling with pleasure.  
_We've made love countless times before, but I'd never seen Claude in such a state. Did I do this to him?  
_**If you mean rendering him OOC among other atrocities, then yes, yes you did.**

If I did, well . . . Those fools who dumped me  
**Have made a very wise choice.**

don't know what they're missing, and Claude . . .

"Danisha, my lusciously sensual love goddess",  
**DANISHA. IS. NOT. A. GODDESS. Imma tell you who's a goddess. Artemis is a goddess. Frigg is a goddess. Amaterasu is a goddess. Ma'at is a goddess!**

Claude Frollo growled sensually, his body still sprawled over mine and twitching with satisfaction. He kissed my face and body over and over, saying in the deepest, most voluptuous voice,  
**Apparently it's a word used to describe voice now.**

"I _know_ exactly what you're thinking,  
**Apparently he's a psychic now.**

and I only have this to say: Those stupid men are just that -- stupid! Why, if one would walk in on this little session..."  
Claude emitted a throaty chuckle when he added, "My sweetness, all your former suitors will never know the sensual pleasures I've just experienced."  
**Those lucky bastards.**

I returned each and every kiss, continuing to cuddle Claude in my arms. Then I had to say something: "Claude, is it safe to say that you're getting enough for all those guys?"  
In response to this remark, Claude burst out laughing then snuggled close to me as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

He then laughed again when he said,"Darling, those peaches were to -- what is the expression? Oh yes -- To die for!"  
**_(à la Norway from Axis Powers Hetalia)_ The expression is decent enough, but the person saying it is annoying as hell.**

He kissed me deeply and intensely, his tongue gently probing the inside of my mouth.  
**STOP. STOP. STOP. I'VE HAD ENOUGH.**

I returned the kiss with equal passion and tenderness, saying, "Yes, sugarbritches,  
**"I'm not Sugarbritches, I'm a believable character who will not put up with your Mary Sue crap!"**

those were rather tasty." My arms were still locked around Claude and he was still lying on top of me. I glanced up at the mirror once more and studied the reflection of two people who had just made the most passionate love.  
On wrinkled, sweat-soaked, peach-stained sheets we lay on that bed surrounded by all those mirrors, our legs entwined together, and dreamed the most beautiful of dreams. Then he _had_ to suggest a late-night swim; then we indulged our appetites -- _Again!_  
**Give him a fucking break! He's an old man!**

Oh yeah -- We then enjoyed a late -- make that a VERY late -- supper and peach pie. Claude sure _loves_ my peach pie!  
**God forbid he loves food from his own time.**

The End

Hope you enjoyed this juicy tale so much that you'll run down to your local market and buy a sackful of ripe, juicy peaches! ;-)  
**Yeah sure, I'll buy lots of them so that I have something to throw at you!**


End file.
